Visit the website dedicated to Fort Worden: Rebirth Through Decay at FortWordenBook.com.

The following is the introduction to Fort Worden: Rebirth Through Decay.  Soon to be posted will be the history, followed by the specific battery information.

          INTRODUCTION  

Once a thriving and functional Seacoast Defense Headquarters, the only current functional aspect of Fort Worden is its value as piece of living, authentic American military history. Today, Officer’s residences act as guest houses for tourists and vacationers, military offices have morphed into museums, laundromats and lounges, the outskirts of the campus to campsites, and the “bunkers”, or more accurately batteries, have become a hiker’s destination and explorer’s paradise. To those born within the last thirty years, this is an ancient playground of wonder, intrigue, discovery and history.

Morning strolls through the fort are often characterized by a thick fog drifting off the San Juan de Fuca, shrieking seagulls and the crash of waves, a bouquet of sea salt and the sweetness of firs and pines teasing the nostrils, and dewy grass skirting those same fertile, deep-green trees.

The air is thick with a sense of the antique- the same sensation one gets when snooping through old familial artifacts and garage sale finds. Cement sidewalks are ground down to a gritty surface with old tree roots busting a once-flat walkway into an exciting ride of jumps and dips for young cyclists.

The officer’s houses may as well have the building dates emblazoned across their eves. Grand iron fenced porches, tarnished brass door knobs that slip in one’s hand and leave a metallic essence upon palms. The ceilings are lined with painted ornate copper sheeting, stairs with thick wood banisters creak and moan, and faucets leak.

The focal point of Fort Worden is scattered all over Artillery Hill, down on the Norwestern bluff and the tip of Point Wilson. Mossy, moldy, weather-stained concrete batteries are built into and onto the earth. If stumbled upon without context, they give the impression of ancient Mayan ruins. Stair edges are rounded with age, iron ladders, doors, rings and wiring a spectrum of oxidized reds. Painted-over graffiti along with patterns of chipped concrete and moss adorn the fortifications. The tunnels, passageways and rooms are dank, dark, and musty; the swirling odor a mixture of urine, wet concrete, rust and decay. Potato chip bags, beer bottles and the rare syringe litter the ground.

At one point Fort Worden was a bustling military fort employing over four thousand men. Over 200 buildings dotted the land, included barracks, administration buildings, kitchen and mess halls, officers’ quarters, a guard house, hospital, power house, signal station, wharf and a bakery. Twelve batteries with 41 pieces of artillery were nestled up Artillery Hill and down around the beach at Point Wilson.

However, at the onset of WWII nearly all pieces of artillery were shipped overseas or scrapped, leaving the batteries bare and useless.

After the purchase and declaration as a state park in 1955, Fort Worden was effectively finished as an active military entity.  The batteries became obsolete and transitioned from “military capital” to “military history”. A lack of use and care reduced them to substrates for moss and lichen and shelters for the homeless and wild animals alike.

The batteries decayed, yes, but through this decay became much more than military installations; they became animal and plant habitats, transient hideaways, teenage hangouts and drug dens, a place explored by parents and children alike, the centerpiece of local myths and ghost stories, a jogger’s paradise, blank canvases for graffiti artists, tourist destinations, and for all aforementioned, a seed of wonder and intrigue, of fantasy. The longer one ruminates on the purpose, history, and potential of Fort Worden, the greater the lore produced, the deeper the dreams woven of this sacred, eerie and richly historic collection of concrete objects watching over the Sound. It is a rebirth through decay.

Dairy Air Quality: Noxious Emissions

Just a mere decade ago the idea of  noxious air emissions and their sources summoned images of smokestacks and swirling black smoke, large Suburbans guzzling diesel and pressurized aerosol cans. Smokestacks have been regulated, alternatives to low-mileage automobiles have been introduced and the dangerous chlorofluorocarbons have been phased out.

Once these issues were tackled, exploration of other sources of noxious air emissions began to garner attention. One of the main sources that rose to the top of many lists was dairies. Increased urbanization, as well as increased societal sensitivity and scientific understanding of green house gasses have all contributed to a heightened interest and scrutiny of dairy air quality and emissions. Concern surrounds odor, dust, ammonia and greenhouse gas emissions.

The following paper outlines these emissions by highlighting their production, possible measuring technology, government regulations, and methods of reduction. For dairies to thrive in the future, these issues must be examined and a proactive stance must be taken on emissions reduction.

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Odor

Anyone living in close proximity (or attending a university, for that matter) to a dairy knows that the most readily apparent emission from dairies is odor. While this may seem like more of a harmless by-product than a harmful emission, odor is a huge issue in the dairy industry.

The gravity of the issue lies in the negative publicity for dairies and the dairy industry as a whole, and the labeling of a dairy as a “nuisance”. In population-dense areas, odor from a dairy may create tension between the neighbors (e.g. consumers) and the dairy, and in extreme cases have included private lawsuits (Miner, 1997).

In the United States the federal government has no regulatory control over odor; it is regulated as a nuisance by every state in the Union (Miner, 1997).  This allows the offended the option of “private nuisance actions” which may include a court order to cause the operator to address the odor, a command to close the dairy operation, or even monetary compensation for actual or punitive damages (Miner, 1997).

One of the difficulties in addressing effluvium concerns is its measurement:  the determination of quantity, quality and offensiveness. While offensiveness may be difficult to quantify, numerous methods have been developed to put a number to odor.

A device known as a “Scentometer” or “Olfactometer”, such as the “Nasal Ranger Field Olfactometer” by St. Croix Sensory has been utilized to quantify odor. This tool utilizes “Dilution-to-Threshold” ratios to quantify odor strength. To do this, carbon-filtered air is combined with specific volumes of odorous air. The D/T/ ratio is “a measure of the number of dilutions needed to take the odorous air to its threshold” (St. Croix Sensory, 2011).

Another method is a determination of the percentage of time an odor is detectable to the human nose at a specific location. This is a low-cost and low-production method, but is highly subjective and regarded as inaccurate (Miner, 1997).

While the quantification of odor may be difficult to grasp, its source is not. Odor emanating from dairies is a conglomeration of volatile organic compounds, including ammonia and hydrogen sulfide, formed by the anaerobic decomposition of manure (Imerman et. al., 2005). This anaerobic decomposition largely takes place in anaerobic lagoons, large oxygen-deficient pits where manure and urine is liquefied and stored. It is in these pits where biological processes convert nitrogen to ammonia, sulfur to hydrogen sulfide, and carbohydrates to carbon dioxide and water (Miner, 1997).

A method to reduce the production of odor is to store manure differently. Anaerobic processes produce volatile compounds; however aerobic environments are conducive to the production of aerobic bacteria, fungi and more complex organisms which break down manure and produce compost odor. These facts make the alternative of aerobic lagoons attractive; all that is needed is a floating mechanical surface aerator in the lagoon. This reduces odor, however increased ammonia volatilization may occur, an issue to be discussed later (Powers, 2003).

The cheapest, most effective method of manure storage is to cover anaerobic lagoons. Gas-tight rubber covers have been developed, but many times are expensive and frankly a hassle. Currently Oregon State University is designing and developing low cost, floating permeable lagoon covers which would greatly reduce odor emissions (Miner, 1997).

Other methods to halt anaerobic decomposition are to inhibit biological activity by maintaining sufficiently low temperature and to create an environment that is unsuitable for aerobic bacteria by mixing a small amount of manure with a large volume of straw (Miner, 1997).

Another source of odor is the spreading of manure as fertilizer over pastures.  Odor reduction methods in this facet is the more infrequent spreading of manure, the injection of manure into cover crops and the knifing of liquid manure into the soil (Miner, 1997).

When analyzing the issue of odor biologically, one discovers that manure decomposition occurs before excretion in the bovine species. The intestine is an oxygen-free environment with little temperature variability, and serves to break down ingested proteins and carbohydrates into amino acids and sugars, respectively. The byproducts of this breakdown are nitrogen and sulfur, which are precursors of ammonia and hydrogen sulfide. When expelled, volatile materials present in the excreta vaporize and odor is given off. Further aerobic decomposition produces more offensive odor (Miner, 1997).

Therefore, nutrition may be manipulated to reduce odor. The balancing of amino acids in the ration may reduce the amount of N and S secreted, which would greatly reduce odor. These methods and rations are still in development (Miner, 1997).

The most promising methods of odor reduction are the simplest and most commonsensical. Site selection, appropriate facility design and positive public relations and the development of friendships are the most fool-proof solutions (Miner, 1997).

Select a site away from schools, shopping centers, housing development and suburbs, and make sure adequate land is partitioned for manure disposal. Design a facility that allows for frequent manure removal, and utilize fans and exhaust systems appropriately. Cultivate positive feelings towards the dairy industry, and make friends: it is very rare that a nuisance suit is filed between friends. These recommendations can help with odor levels and complaints.                      —————————————————–

Ammonia

Ammonia was previously mentioned as a component of odor, but it in itself is threatening the dairy industry and the environment as a whole. Ammonia is a dangerous gas as when it is volatilized, may react with Sulfur Oxide or a mono-nitrogen oxide to form ammonium sulfate and ammonium nitrate, respectively (Powers, 2003). These products are also known as ammonium salts, and return to the earth as rainfall, or acid rain, and release nitric and sulfuric acid in the soil when oxidized (Guyton, 2004).

The Environmental Protection Agency has determined that 71% of national ammonia emissions are from animal agriculture, and 23% (558,094 tons/yr) come from dairies (EPA, 2011). This may not seem like much, but for seven categories outlined (dairy, beef, poultry, swine, sheep, goats and horses), 23% is a large piece. Therefore, it computes that state and federal organizations would attempt to regulate and reduce ammonia emissions from dairies.

As early as 1984, controls were set in The Netherlands to reduce current levels of emissions by 50% in 2000 (Lenis and Jongbloed, 1999). Closer to home, the South Coast Air Quality Management District (SCAQMD), which covers Los Angeles and surrounding counties, had set a goal of 50% reduction of ammonia emissions from dairy operations by 2006. If progress was not made by 2004, dairies were subject to ammonia controls, which included lowering nitrogen levels in feed, a shift towards aerobic manure storage, off-site composting and altering the pH of manure chemically (AQMP, 2003).

The Environmental Protection Agency has also set controls for ammonia indirectly. The fine particles created by the reaction of ammonia with acidic gases, previously called ammonium salts, are classified by the EPA as “PM2.5”, or particulate matter that are 2.5 micrometers in diameter or smaller. The primary standards for PM2.5 outlined in the National Ambient Air Quality Standards are defined as 35 µg/m³ for a 24-hour period (EPA, 2006).

The Occupational Safety and Health Administration have imposed standards that specifically address ammonia levels in relation to dairy workers. These standards limit dairy workers to eight hours of exposure to an ammonia concentration of 50ppm. They also require monitoring and reporting of ammonia release from sources that exceed 45.4 kg per day (NRC, 2003).

With this much interest and regulation surrounding dairies in respect to ammonia emissions, it makes sense to learn its production and means of reduction in order to avoid future controls and fines.

It has been calculated that 75 to 85% of nitrogen ingested in dairy cows is excreted in the forms of urine and feces. Of this percentage, up to 50% of nitrogen contained in the manure is converted to ammonia from urea, which then may be volatized to the atmosphere. More ammonia is excreted as a gas due to an inefficient utilization of soluble nitrogen through microbial protein synthesis. As the rumen is an anaerobic environment, this nitrogen is converted to ammonia (Tamminga, 1992).

Broken down further, fecal losses of nitrogen results from undigested-feed nitrogen, undigested microbial nitrogen and endogenous nitrogen. Endogenous nitrogen loss, which refers to internal N loss, occurs because of the release of rumenal digestive enzymes and the shedding of epithelial cells in the gut wall (Tamminga, 1992).

Once excreted, the liquid and solid organic material is subject to microbial conversion to microbial biomass and gases, including ammonia. Oft overlooked, urease in the environment catalyzes the conversion of urea to carbon dioxide and ammonia (Tamminga, 1992).

One method to reduce ammonia emission is to control the amount of nitrogen ingested. It has been shown that rumen losses of nitrogen are more extreme in diets with a N concentration of greater than 24g/kg of organic matter ingested. This can be achieved by mixing grass feeds with forages or concentrates low in nitrogen (Tamminga, 1992).

Cereal grains are some of the best materials to feed, as they are low in nitrogen and contain high amounts of starch which can be degraded easily and rapidly, which will efficiently utilize soluble nitrogen. This is another method of reducing nitrogen loss: improving the efficiency of ruminally-degraded nitrogen through microbial protein synthesis. Without this utilization, the ruminally-degraded nitrogen will be excreted, where much of it will be converted to ammonia. The trick here is to match the release of ruminally-degraded nitrogen with microbial nitrogen capture (Tamminga, 1992).

Lastly, nitrogenous losses may be reduced by feeding less protein. This reduces nitrogen in the chambers of cows, and alters the susceptibility of manure nitrogen to volatilization. In one study total nitrogen excreted was reduced by 28% in heifers fed a low protein diet (Guyton, 2004).

The story does not end once manure is produced.  Several treatments have been studied and developed to reduce ammonia volatilization from excreta, namely the addition of zeolite and alum to dairy slurries. In fact, an addition of 6.25% zeolite and 2.5% alum by weight to dairy slurry reduced ammonia emissions by 50 and 60%, respectively (Lefcourt and Meisinger, 2001).

Zeolite is a silicate clay mineral and a cation-exchange medium that previously has been used to reduce ammonia in water. It serves to absorb ammonium and reduces dissolved ammonia gas. A positive of zeolite use is its slow-release of nitrogen, which is good for surrounding flora (Lefcourt and Meisinger, 2001).

Alum, on the other hand, is a hydrated potassium aluminum sulfate and reduces the pH of the dairy slurry, retaining ammonia. It also reduces soluble phosphorous; however, it must be added carefully, as too much alum may increase soluble aluminum (Lefcourt and Meisinger, 2001).

With carefully-controlled nutritional practices and possible slurry additives, the reduction of ammonia volatilization is a legitimate, attainable goal.

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Dust

A less sexy, yet no less important emission from dairies is dust. While it may not seem like a big problem, dust has been found to contain allergens, microbial pathogens, bacterial toxins, fungal spores, and mycotoxins which may be respired deep into lung alveoli and affect the immune system, inducing local and systemic inflammatory reactions or infections (Purdy et. al., 2009). In short, dust is a serious, however controllable, issue in the dairy industry.

At present dust is regulated by the EPA as PM2.5 at 35 µg/m³ and PM10 at 150 µg/m³ per 24 hours (EPA, 2006). Lacking standards, however, is indoor air, which may be the most harmful to dairy workers and animals, as this is where they are in closest contact with the dust and the dust is most concentrated (Purdy et. al., 2009).

A recent study of numerous dairies found that, on average, the dairies were not compliant for dust levels of the PM10 variety for 39 of 496 days (7.9%) and PM2.5 particles 24 of 439 days (5.5%) (EPA, 2006). While 7.9% and 5.5% are seemingly low numbers, these levels still have the potential to cause harm to humans and animals, and it would be wise to pursue methods of reduction.

Attempting dust reduction is futile without a method to measure particulate levels. Some of the most popular tools to measure dust levels are aerosol laser monitors which use light-scattering laser photometers. These tools emit a laser and are able to determine particle mass concentration based on the amount of light scatter (Imerman et. al., 2007).

Other methods are the use of chambers that collect particulates based on diameter, and sequential reference ambient air samplers that take in high volumes of ambient air for analysis (Purdy et. al., 2009). It should be noted that these instruments measure all dust, not only dairy-specific dust. Included could be road dust, dust from other industries, and other sources.

A tool for determining dust reduction strategies are temporal variations in particulate matter concentrations. Most studies on dust emissions from dairies agree that winter aerosol concentration is greater when compared to summer (Purdy et. al., 2009). Reasons cited is less ventilation in the winter do to a reduced use of fans and a greater use of soot-emitting heaters in milking parlors.

More specifically, a study by Imerman and others found that with the onset of warm weather and the usage of cooling fans, sub micron and fine particles increased significantly while medium sized and large particles had a reduction in concentration. The month of August featured the highest temperature with cooling fans at their peak, and under these conditions submicron particle numbers increased (Imerman et. al., 2007). These results were attributed to strong, turbulent air flow created by the increased use of fans re-suspending small particles into the air.

Much of the dust produced and emitted from dairies are unavoidable, and measures to reduce it deal with moving dust to areas that harm less humans. An increase in ventilation on dairies moves dust to areas where it is able to be diluted by ambient air.

Another reduction strategy is to manage traffic and roadways on the dairy. Much of the dust on dairies is produced by speedy traffic on unpaved, gravel roads (Purdy et. al., 2009). Thus, the paving of roads and slowing of vehicular traffic will greatly reduce ambient aerosol concentrations.

Additionally, the replacement of antiquated natural gas heaters with low-carbon-emission heaters or electric heaters will reduce ambient dust concentrations.

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Greenhouse Gases

The most serious emissions from dairies are without a doubt greenhouse gasses. These include nitrous oxide, methane, and carbon dioxide.  It has been reported that 17% of total greenhouse gas emissions are from livestock, and ruminants may account for 2% of the global warming that will occur in the next 50 to 100 years (Powers, 2003).

Greenhouse gasses are dangerous because, when volatilized to the atmosphere, yield the Greenhouse Effect. Greenhouse gasses absorb thermal infrared radiation emitted by the earth, atmosphere and clouds, effectively trapping heat within the Earth’s surface-troposphere system. This radiation is then re-radiated, and some is sent back to the surface of the earth, which increases the ambient temperature, which is thought to contribute to global climate change (IPCC, 2005).

Methane is the hot-button issue at the moment. The total worldwide production of methane is estimated as close to 400 million metric tons, and cattle produce 15% of this, a huge portion of the pie (Taminga, 1992). Eighty percent of the methane produced from dairy cows is from enteric fermentation, while the remaining twenty percent is from manure management (Worth et. al, 2007). With improved nutrition and alternative manure management practices, a reduction of methane is possible.

The greatest amount of methane from a dairy cow is released as an end product of rumen fermentation.  Here, the greatest work in reducing methane emissions in dairy cattle is possible. Between 8 and 12% of digestible energy ingested by dairy cows is lost as methane (Tamminga, 1992). A few tweaks in the nutrition of dairy cattle could greatly reduce the amount of methane produced.

In regards to enteric fermentation methane production, there are two methods to reduce CH4 production: decreased rumen fermentation and increased small intestine digestion or a shift in volatile fatty acids towards more propionate and less acetate.

Production of the volatile fatty acid propionate has an inverse relationship with the production of methane. Propionate can be increased by increasing the quality of forage, replacing forage with concentrates, and replacing structural carbohydrates with starch or sugars. Propionate can also be increased by increasing the feeding of starch (Taminga, 1992).

Increasing the level of feed intake will also reduce rumen methane production. At low levels of feed intake more substrate per unit feed ingested is degraded in the rumen without changing the volatile fatty acid pattern, which trends towards more propionate and less acetate (Taminga, 1992).

As stated earlier, methane manure emissions account for 20% of all methane production from dairy cows (Worth et. al, 2007). While this may seem a small portion, reducing methane loss in this facet helps in the overall reduction of methane.

Most dairies store their manure in slurries, which is very economical and convenient. Methane is released from these slurries when the concentration of methane in the slurry exceeded the solubility (Beline et. al., 2006). A good alternative to dairy slurries are the use of manure heaps.

Manure heaps are just that, heaps of manure out in the open air. Because of the increased aerobic nature of the breakdown, methane production is reduced. Manure heaps have been shown to emit about 10% per kilogram of milk of methane than dairy slurries (Beline et. al., 2006).

Other methods to reduce methane include switching from liquid manure storage systems to dry storage systems, spreading of manure more frequently (Worth et. al., 2007), increase cow efficiency, and the reduction of replacements for the dairy herd (Casey and Holden, 2005). Fringe methods that remain in development include the supplementation of human cholesterol-lowering drugs that reduce methane emissions and increase feed efficiency, and the addition of ionophores to ruminant diets (Powers, 2003).

Carbon dioxide is another one of the greenhouse gasses emitted by dairy cows, and is an end-product of animal production; in fact, 90% of digestible organic matter required for maintenance by cows is lost as carbon dioxide. Sources of carbon dioxide, other than from the animals, are farm fieldwork, nitrogen fertilizer and farm fieldwork (Taminga, 1992).

Nitrous oxide is the most powerful greenhouse gas produced by dairy cows. Half of the nitrous oxide production comes from manure, while synthetic fertilizer and crop residue also play a roll. One recommendation to reduce nitrous oxide emissions is to spread manure closer to the summer, as July spreading emitted ten times less nitrous oxide than April spreading (Taminga, 1992).

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All of the previously aforementioned emissions have the potential to cause great harm to the dairy industry. As American society continues to shift to a more liberal-minded population and as this same society becomes more aware and afraid of environmental concerns, dairies will continue to receive negative publicity due to their noxious emissions.

The Environmental Protection Agency has already outlined emissions levels in its Clean Air Act, and the continued scientific explorations and increasing public concern will undoubtedly lead them to enforcing these standards, making an already poorly-compensated industry poorer.

The only way to avoid slow dairy industry death is to get out ahead of the problem and address these emissions. Regulatory organizations will look more fondly on dairies that self-police and take their emissions seriously. And once these emissions are reduced, this may be the forefront of new public relations campaign or niche market: the low emissions dairy. Just as cage-free, organic and free-range have taken over the industry, so could Low-Emissions Dairies.

Dairies are here to stay. Milk is an American staple, and no reasonable amount of natural emissions will shut the industry down. These issues may reduce the profit per gallon of milk received by dairy owners, and the negative press may reduce demand. To combat these negative possibilities, alternative nutrition and manure storage, alternative heating, increased and more effective air flow, and the paving of gravel roads, amongst other things, must be implemented.

REFERENCES

AQMP. 2003. District’s stationary and mobile source control measures. Available: http://www.aqmd.gov/aqmp/docs/2003AQMP_AppIVa.pdf. Accessed Mar. 7, 2011.

Beline, F., M. A. Hilhorst, P. Peu, and R.W. Sneath. 2006. Monitoring GHG from manure stores on organic and conventional dairy farms. Ecosystems and Environment 112:122-128.

Casey, J.W., N.M. Holden. 2005. Analysis of greenhouse gas emissions from the average Irish milk production system. Agricultural Systems 86: 97-114.

EPA. 2006. PM standards revision-2006. Available: http://epa.gov/pm/naaqsrev2006.html. Accessed Mar. 7, 2011.

EPA. 2011. 2011 draft inventory of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions and sinks: 1990-2009. Available: http://epa.gov/climatechange/emissions/downloads11/US-GHG-Inventory-2011-Complete_Report.pdf. Accessed Mar. 6, 2011.

Guyton, A.D., J.M. McKinney, K.F. Knowlton, and K.M. Burkholder. 2004. The effect of steam flaked or dry ground corn and supplemental phytic acid on nitrogen parititioning in lactating cows and ammonia emission from manure. J. Dairy Sci. 87:2546-2553.

Imerman, E, G. Arnold, L.Y. Zhao, M. Brugger, and R. Manuzon. 2005. Study of air quality spatial and temporal distributions on large dairy farms in ohio. American agricultural society of Agricultural Engineers.

Imerman, E., G. Arnold, L.Y. Zhao, M.F. Brugger, and R.B. Manuzon. 2007. Variations in air quality of new ohio dairy facilities with natural ventilation systems. Applied Engineering in Agriculture 23:339-346.

IPCC. 2005. Special report: safeguarding the ozone layer and the global climate system- annex II glossary. Available: http://www.ipcc.ch/pdf/special-reports/sroc/sroc_a2.pdf. Accessed Mar. 6, 2011.

Lefcourt, A.M., J.J. Meisinger. 2001. Effect of adding alum or zeolite to dairy slurry on ammonia volatilization and chemical composition. J Dairy Sci 84:1814-1821.

Lenis, N. P., and A. W. Jongbloed 1999. New technologies in low pollution swine diets; diet manipulation and use of synthetic amino acids, phytase and phase feeding for reduction of nitrogen and phosphorus excretion and ammonia emission. Asian-Australian J. Anim. Sci. 12:305–327.

Miner, J.R. 1997. Nuisance concerns and odor control. J Dairy Sci 80:2667-2672.

NRC. 2003. Air Emissions from Animal Feeding Operations: Current Knowledge, Future Needs. National Academic Press, Washington, DC.

Powers, W.J. 2003. Keeping science in environmental regulations: the role of the animal scientist. J Dairy Sci. 86:1045-1051.

Purdy, C.W., D.C. Straus, and R.N. Clark. 2009. Ambient and indoor particulate aerosols generated by dairies in the southern high plains. J Dairy Sci. 92:6033-6044.

St. Croix Sensory. N.D. Nasal ranger field olfactometer brochure. Available: http://www.nasalranger.com/media/Nasal%20Ranger%20Brochure.PDF. Accessed Mar. 5, 2011.

Tamminga, S. 1992. Nutrition management of dairy cows as a contribution to pollution control. J Dairy Sci. 75:345-357.

Worth, D., J.A. Dyer, R.L. Desjardins, X.P.C. Verge. 2007. Greenhouse gas emissions from the Canadian dairy industry in 2001. Agricultural Systems. 94:683-693.

Following text by Peter St. George.
Edited by Erin Lee Miller.

I groggily awoke from a haphazard nap; a slumber that was constantly at war with the roar of twin jet-engines. Peering out of my window I glimpsed an orange wasteland spread out below me and off into the distance, as far as the eye could see. It was a rich and inspiring nothing: no trees, no lakes, no rivers, no buildings. Small patches of clouds dotted the tundra, their shadows slightly offset, playing on the desert floor. It was a duotone landscape, orange transforming abruptly but smoothly into blue; desert to sky. I had caught my first glimpse of the ‘real Australia’, a place known as the Red Center.

Two and a half hours later the plane touched down in sunny, flat and dry Alice Springs. The place was crawling with flies, annoying little buggers that would buzz straight to the face; it was a constant battle to deflect them.

I wandered through the tiny airport and quickly found a shuttle to my accommodation, then grabbed a piece of pavement by the van and continued to battle the flies. After 45 excruciating minutes of waiting for a plane to arrive from Cairns I boarded the shuttle that would take us all to Haven Backpackers Resort.

I took my seat on the shuttle and the driver hopped in, jumping over the front seat to face us and asked us where we all were from. Some said Sydney, others Melbourne, yet others Cairns. “FUCK those places”, he proclaimed. “This is the REAL Australia!”

After checking into the hostel I threw on some shorts, as it was nearly eighty degrees outside, and hurried towards town.

As I passed through Alice Springs I saw my first Aboriginal people. I had seen Aborigines before at Circular Quay playing didgeridoos, but for some reason I really didn’t consider it a genuine experience. Not that they aren’t genuinely Aboriginal, but the experience is somewhat cheapened as their motive is to profit off tourists and arguably portray a caricature of their heritage. It was a compelling experience in that I was among relatives of the first proprietors of the land; the original Australians. I felt as though I was seeing a celebrity whenever I saw one.

They are a truly fascinating people. Their features are stunning, but I find them indescribable; they simply look as though they are an ancient people. And the combination of dark skin with naturally blond hair is striking.

Another thing that was extraordinary was the smell of the Aboriginals-a body odor that was different, inexplicable. At first glance this may seem derogatory, but one must move away from the ethnocentric ideal that the norm is cleanliness and an absence of body odor.

After walking around in Alice for the day I became familiar with the smell. Then, as I walked back towards town for some dinner later in the day I found myself zoning out and staring at the ground. I caught a whiff of the familiar smell and immediately thought, “Aborigines.” I looked up and barely made out three dark figures about fifty feet in front of me. As I passed them I discovered my olfactory sense was right.

From my day in Alice it seemed as though the Indigenous Australians have the same problem with alcohol as Native Americans. Many of the Aborigines I saw were inebriated or sitting around and drinking alcohol (during the day), or just wandering about, seemingly homeless. (NOTE-Aborigines from here on will be referred to as Indigenous Australians, as this is the more culturally-sensitive and preferred terminology.) It seems as though I was seeing first-hand the effects of colonization. If one builds their whole existence on the land, and that land is seized, how can one recover?

(An interesting juxtaposition: as I was walking into town I passed a small hill with a ‘City of Alice Springs’ sign declaring that it was a sacred Aboriginal site. Beyond the sign I saw an old, haggard Indigenous Australian man take a last swig out of his beer bottle and toss it to the ground. I then looked to my left and saw a K-Mart.)

Downtown Alice Springs is made up of maybe six to eight short streets; four streets crossing four. The central downtown area, however, is essentially one pedestrian-only road lined with tourist shops, cafes, a bookstore, and Aboriginal art galleries, terminating with a shopping mall. There were Indigenous Australians panhandling along the street, playing some tunes on old, beaten-up guitars and a handful of others trying to sell their artwork. I grabbed a quick lunch at a cafe and perused the downtown area, stepping into an Indigenous Australian art gallery and continuing my quest for the ironic surf shop I had heard so much about.

Alice Springs is not an awesome town, or even a beautiful town. But it is a culturally-significant town, one that must be visited. I only had roughly six hours to experience it, which was enough, but I am so glad I was able to spend time there. My most sacred memories of my time in Alice were mingling with the Indigenous Australians and the knowledge that I was in the center of this great country, in outback Australia.

Walking back towards the hostel I passed the small park-like area with the mound where I had earlier seen the Indigenous Australian man finish off his beer, throw the bottle into a campfire and stagger away. There had been a drove of school boys running down a road that led to its top, and as it was nearing sunset I decided to climb it, explore a bit and catch the sunset over Alice.

From the top I had 360-degree views of the town as well as the mountain ranges that embraced it. As an Oregonian I wouldn’t usually refer to them as mountain ranges, but as I was in one of the flattest places in the world, where a 100 meter-high hill gives you a view for nearly a hundred miles, contextually they were the Himalayas.

I recorded a video, then sat myself down on the edge and gazed over the quaint outback town as the sun set. I removed my camera bag, vowing to not touch it; this was a moment that I was going to experience, one that would be solely mine. Selfish? Maybe, but too often my mind is occupied with finding the correct angle, the right composition or lighting, that I forget to just be and take the moment in. This was a moment for me, a time to absorb the beauty of the works of my creator.

The moment the sun disappeared it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees. I high-tailed it back to the hostel and threw on some pants. They day had been absolutely jam-packed, a cultural deluge that left me exhausted and suffering from a slight ocular migraine. My head hit the pillow before any of my fellow dormitory-mates had returned, which is always an awkward experience, but the following day was to be another tour-de-force of sorts, and I was planning on being coherent.

–ζ——δ——ζ–

I awoke before my alarm began to scream and lay in bed for a few last moments. The anxiety brought on by the expectations of the day began to set in, and I realized that I felt absolutely terrible. My stomach was like the middle of the Bering Sea, and I immediately began to envision the horrors that this could cause later in the day.

After my morning rituals and a few pieces of toast my body started to calm down. I checked out of the hostel, got my stuff together and headed out in search of food. A McDonald’s cheeseburger later a tour van pulled up in front of the hostel. A woman dressed in all green pseudo-canvas clothing disembarked and headed my way. “Are you Petah?” she asked in a thick Aussie accent. I answered with the affirmative and boarded. I was greeted by a middle-aged woman, two beautiful girls that looked my age and two early-to-mid-forties men sitting in the back. I exchanged somewhat awkward ‘hellos’ with them and took my seat.

After picking up a few other travelers at the airport we made our way west along the Stuart Highway. Within twenty minutes or so all houses and signs of human interference had vanished, leaving us with an incredibly flat terrain. Small bushes and trees were all skirted with red sand. There were a few hills and miniature valleys, but for the most part it was incredibly flat-we had no more than two options to turn in six hours of driving.

I soon learned the name of the German woman who sat in front of me: Conny. We struck up a conversation and didn’t stop talking until arrival at Kings Canyon. We spoke about Germany and my ties to it, among a multitude of other things. She had spent some time in Boston so her English was smooth and clear, and our conversing really helped to pass the time.  Six hours of sleeping, talking, listening to music, watching the bush and looking out for kangaroo and dingoes; not a bad way to pass the time.

We stopped every two hours for petrol, and checking out the service stations was quite the cultural experience. The first station we came to had a caged-off area of emus, which are native to Australia and somewhat of a national icon. The Socceroos, the national soccer team, wear jerseys with a crest of a kangaroo and an emu displayed prominently on the front.

The service station also had a dingy Old West-style saloon. A woman smoking a cigarette, a couple shooting pool and an old, past-his-prime bushman watching an Australian-Rules Football game on the big screen comprised the patrons.

After a few more hours of driving, another rest stop, then a few more hours on the road we came to our final service station, which was my favorite. Its attraction was camel rides, but more interestingly it also functioned as a kangaroo rescue. The rescue looked after joeys that had lost their mothers and were too small to survive in the bush on their own. They were kept in an enclosed space until they had grown to a survivable height, when they were released back into the wild. I really hadn’t had that much interaction with kangaroos up to this point, so this was pretty special for me. To see them move is so interesting, and they look otherworldly with their huge feet, long, thick tails, comically-tiny arms, horse faces and their hopping gait.

The van rumbled along for another hour, and by this time the light on the brush turned to shadows, expressly on its way to night. Our long trek was officially over as we pulled into the ranger station, and Kate hopped out to check us in to the campsite.

We made a quick detour to a viewing point and watched our first outback sunset play across  distant mountain ranges. These moments should be monumental and powerful for a boy from Oregon, but with all that happened that day, the past week, and the past three months, it was just another little moment among the multitudes that I had experienced; it’s quite sad really.

One of the great features of the trip was the permanent camp sites. Both nights spent in the wild outback we were blessed with our own private camp sites complete with permanent shelters with bunks and a covered kitchen and dining area. We were hardly roughing it.

Dinner that night consisted of noodles with Bolognese sauce, a hearty and oh-so tasty meal. Post dinner we all migrated to the fire pit, with Kate and I visiting what was rumored to be an old Indigenous Australian burial ground to collect some wood.

Our time around the campfire was a riot! Kate told stories of past groups she’d guided, while Roelof, a South African-turned Australian who made the trek to the outback with his partner Bret, entertained us with his marshmallow-roasting skills. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol, excitement from being on vacation or just his personality, but he was absolutely hysterical. He kept accidentally referring to the marshmallows as mushrooms, which spawned jokes of him being under the influence of magical mushrooms, and he put us in stitches with his quips towards his companion Brett. There were also a few kangaroo tails roasting in our fire pit, and once we had grown wary of their presence Roelof terrorized the neighboring camp with them. It was a fantastic night.

The weather was incredible. As the outback is basically in the middle of a desert, super-hot days and cold nights characterize the climate. That night the temperature didn’t dip below 65 degrees and we were blessed with an incredibly clear sky; an eerie combination. Most of us cashed in on this phenomenon and elected to sleep outside under the stars in swags, a protective canvas envelope for our sleeping bags.

I’ve never seen the Milky Way that milky before. We were trapped in a tin can, a thousand holes poked in the top with a spotlight shining through- the stars were so intense! Roelof pointed out the Southern Cross, a constellation that has a place on the Australian flag, which is nearly impossible to see from Sydney.

After a few shooting and falling stars I drifted off to sleep, a moderate breeze caressing my face and the great ominous silence of a natural, untouched land soothing me. Finally, I had made it to the real Australia; the Australian outback!

–ζ——δ——ζ–

After our time around the campsite the group really started to get to know one another, and we began to form what would later feel like a sort of family.

We were lucky to have as our tour guide Kate, a woman in her late-twenties from Melbourne. She had been guiding for eight months previously, and is an adventurous yet laid back woman who enjoys her beer, a requirement of being Australian.

I’ve previously mentioned Brett and Roelof, companions from Melbourne in their mid-40’s who would come to be referred to as “the boys”. They had travelled the world together, and brought much humor, insight and entertainment to our clan.

The people I became the closest to on the trip were Conny and Jeanette, the young women from Germany.  We related very well to each other and bonded pretty intensely over those couple of days.

The incredibleness of the trip rests squarely on the shoulders of these individuals. Before I had joined the group I had spoken to a girl at the hostel about her Red Center trip. She told me a bit about it, then remarked, “It really depends on your group.” I was so very lucky to be on this trip with these people, they truly made it an unforgettable time.

–ζ——δ——ζ–

I awoke to the rustling of sleeping bags and swags and immediately the light ribbing began. Apparently I had snored with immense volume and kept Conny up for a portion of the night. Kate and Roelof (who was in his shelter on the other side of the campsite) heard me snoring as well. I usually feel terrible for snoring and keeping people up, but this time I just decided to apologize, tell them to wake me up next time and move on.

I stumbled into the shelter for a quick breakfast: cereal, a few pieces of toast and fruit. Apparently I was quite the sight at 5 in the morning; I kept getting laughs at my appearance and drunken-like behavior.

We wouldn’t be returning to the camp, so I gathered my things and got to the van as quickly as I could-which wasn’t quick enough. I was the last person on the van and felt like such an idiot rushing around with my bags and all; I hate holding people up.

We headed off along the bumpy and rough road, serenaded by the Beatles singing “Good day sunshine”. Before long we were at the base of Kings Canyon. It was still dark, and only a faint silhouette of the canyon walls could be made out.

The first part of the King’s Canyon walk was the most strenuous, a somewhat precarious and steep set of rock stairs that is commonly known as ‘Heart Attack Hill’. We rose probably 100 meters in two minutes. Conny, Jeanette and I stayed with the group for the first bit, then broke away and took the climb at our own pace.

We reached the top out of breath but were rewarded with a slight but vivid tinge of purplish-pink coloring the clouds.

As we lounged on the rim of King’s Canyon the purple clouds intensified as our surroundings became illuminated. The rest of the group caught up and we pushed on, hiking over the sandstone. At certain points Kate would stop to point out certain things of interest: geology, Indigenous Australian practices, animal behaviors and interesting plants.

We came to the edge of the canyon a few times, which gave us views for what felt like hundreds of miles. The walls of the canyon were sheer, dropping nearly 300 meters straight down. It reminded me of Angel’s Landing, a rock formation in Zion National Park in Utah, except much less intense.

Our path led us down a cascade of steps into the canyon to a place called the ‘Garden of Eden,’ a lush and green oasis where a permanent water hole resided, something quite special for a place as dry as outback Australia. It was a transition from desolate rock with a few scraggly ghost gums to a cool and shady sanctuary of thick trees and bushes, a few ducks, and the twittering of birds.

Following the path down through the canyon we came to the water hole, a large pool skirted on one side by rock, where thirty or so fellow tourists were lounging. Beyond the pool of water rose a sheer rock wall, the canyon’s edge, dark red rock with streaks of black. We found a place in the corner and rested for a few minutes, munching on biscuits that Kate had packed. It was incredibly peaceful even though we were anything but alone. The realization that we were in the middle of a desert, an arid desert, yet next to a lush natural garden and pond was a profound juxtaposition.

Retracing our footsteps out of the canyon, then up another cascade of stairs, we found ourselves on the other side of the canyon. A few of us relieved ourselves, then we continued on our way. (Normally I wouldn’t bring up such crude details, but there’s something somewhat noteworthy about leaving ones mark on such a wonderful and spectacular land.)

We continued on along the canyon, admiring the incredible day we had been blessed with. About 65 degrees with overcast skies: incredibly comfortable for hiking and superb photographic conditions. Along the way Kate pointed out ripples in the rock, which she explained were actually from the ocean 300 million years ago. Apparently Kings Canyon, at one point, made up a bit of the ocean floor.

We arrived back at the van at a little after ten and decided to postpone lunch, instead pushing on to Yulara, the tourist/resort town on the outskirts of Uluru – Kata Tjuta National Park. It was a drive of a little over two hours, with most of us electing to sleep. I actually missed a dingo sighting because I was asleep, then failed to see the wild kangaroo Brett had spotted. I still think he was making things up.

As a surprise to us all, it began to rain. A half hour after its onset, we made out a faint landmark in the distance, a body of land we mistook as Uluru (it turns out this imitator was Mt. Connor). It looked like a mountain with its peak chopped off.

We finally pulled in to Yulara, and Kate remarked at how funny it was Uluru couldn’t be seen due to the rain and clouds; the rest of us didn’t really find it funny. I had been incredibly angst-ridden ever since I had seen the rain, fearing that we would miss seeing Uluru. Kate combated these thoughts by assuring me that paths lead right up to the rock; we could even touch it.

Blue sky began to melt away the clouds, and my excitement began to skyrocket.

After lunch we settled in to the campsite. Kate was alerted by a fellow ranger that there was possibly a waterfall at Uluru’s Mutitjula Water Hole, so we all piled in the van and set off. She was very eager and excited, relaying to us that she had only seen waterfalls on Uluṟu once before. This was significant, as Kate had been giving tours for about eight months.

We zoomed along the road towards the great rock, and gradually it began to appear. It was quite the ominous sight. Its girth was incredibly massive, three and a half football fields across. Clouds leeched to the top of Uluṟu, creating the illusion that it rose forever. We kept on driving closer and closer, to the point where the massive rock took up the entire view of the window.

Hopping out of the van, we were greeted with a damp, fresh air. The sky was still gray, and Uluru stood in front of us like an ancient monolith. The spirituality of the rock was palpable; it gave one a hushed and reflective feeling, an air of seriousness and profundity. And the veiling of the clouds made it all the more mysterious, even daunting to explore. These feelings cannot be reproduced; it’s like nothing I have ever felt before. I only feel slight wisps of it looking at certain photographs and video. It was truly stunning.

Giddiness enveloped me as we began to saunter down the path towards the sight of the prospective waterfall. Since my first year of high school I had learned of the majesty of this place, and I was finally here! It was difficult to comprehend, and still is.

We made our way along the path, then onto a boardwalk and to the final viewing area at the Mutitjula Water Hole at the end of the Kuniya walk. There was an immense amount of people in a small area, and it was quite obvious that water was flowing down the rock. In front of us was a large pool of fresh, newly-stirred water contained in part by the backdrop of Uluru. From the top a good amount of water was flowing down, collecting in a dimple-like indentation, then bubbling over and continuing on to the pool below. We were told that it only rains a few times a year at Uluru; we were lucky enough to be there for one of them.

The spiritual, sacred feeling was very strong at this place, the Mutitjula Water Hole. Recollections of the feeling bring a warm and contented feeling to my soul. This was another permanent water pool, yet at this time full to the brim.

On our way back to the bus Kate led us into a cave, and when our eyes adjusted we were met with what first seemed like elementary scribbles on the rock, but which turned out to be symbolic Indigenous Australian rock art. She explained the different symbols, how the artists made their ink, and the different stories the drawings told. They were unprotected, just there- a connection to the past.

Our next stop was the culture center, where we learned of the religious and cultural significance of Uluru. It also explained their wishes against tourists, or anyone for that matter, climbing Uluru. During my first introduction to Uluru in the sixth grade I was told that it wasn’t right to climb Uluru, but my Aussie friends had made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal, and many had climbed it. The cultural center helped to solidify my desire to refrain from climbing.

The Anangu people, the Indigenous Australian tribe that resides at Uluṟu, state that they don’t judge those who climb their sacred rock. They say it is each person’s decision, and they respect those decisions. I, however, do judge. I think climbing the great rock is deeply disrespectful and completely misses the point of what Uluru is all about. You don’t climb the Wailing Wall. You don’t wear a baseball cap into the Sistine Chapel. There are just certain things you don’t do.

At this point the clouds had completely receded from Uluru, taking up their usual posts in the night sky. Our van headed towards a popular tourist area for the nightly Uluru tradition of sipping sparkling wine and watching the sun set, which paints the rock in all different shades of orange and yellow.

We found our own little space away from the crowds and Kate poured us glasses of wine. As the sun drifted behind the rock it was as if Uluru was lit from the inside. It glowed dark orange, which evolved to a brilliant yellow, then back to an orange-gold hue.

After many a group photo the show was over. We were all energized and excited from such a magnificent experience, and ‘partied’ all the way back to the camp site.

Kate cooked us up some chicken burgers, and we later settled around the fire. It was tonight that my experience with inebriation was taken to a new level.

These Adventure Tours are usually planned for group sizes in their twenties. Our group was made up of ten people including the tour guide, but the amount of supplies was for twice as many. This translated to a bottle of wine per person, and we made short work of those bottles that evening.

The night turned into a laughing fest as many of us became intoxicated. We were told that one of the managers of Adventure Tours would visit us and tell an Aboriginal dreamtime story. We were all pretty excited about it, but as it turned out it wasn’t much more than a man mumbling and drawing in the dirt with a stick. We were all giggling and cracking jokes just out of earshot of him-it was like we were back in grade school. I sat there numb, happy, giggly and warm, sharing the moment with good friends and a few others who joined us from another campsite.

I didn’t realize how drunk I was until I got up to go to the bathroom, and walked through a bench, knocking it over. I walked in a zigzag to the bathroom, my head in a haze, stumbled back to the campsite and crawled in my sleeping bag. I was so wonderfully warm, calm, and relaxed. I drifted off to sleep quickly, smoothly…

–ζ——δ——ζ–

Morning came once again too quickly, however this time I was immediately bitten by the frigid air of the desert morning. We all scrambled around in the dark to pack our things and grab a bite of breakfast, then hopped on the bus. I was tired, my eyes crusty and hair all greasy and mussed, but felt no effects from the previous night’s indulgences.

Kate dropped us off at the base of Uluru under the darkness of night, a few rays of fire marking the horizon: the beginning of the sunrise. Instead of watching the sunrise from a viewing point, Kate told us that the most stunning views would be seen during a walk around the base of Uluru. It was still frigid and a punishing wind had started up, but we all tightened up our windbreakers, clenched our jaws and set off.

As Uluṟu is incredibly sacred, there were many sites and areas around the base that were cordoned off, forbidding anyone from entering the area or even to take pictures (enforced by a hefty fine: entering the site can put you back $5000 AUD). Reasoning behind this is that many of these areas are either men’s sacred sites or women’s sacred sites. The Anangu are afraid that if pictures are taken the opposite sex may view them, a violation of their code.

The rock turned from a dark silhouette into a dark orange, then a bright yellow. The walk took us nearly around the entire rock, lasting two hours and about 7 kilometers. The rock itself was a smooth and curvaceous shape, which morphed to a jagged, rippling texture, then back again. The path snaked through a high-desert-like environment to just plain desert, then through to a wooden meadow area sprinkled with ghost gums. The diversity was mind blowing, a plethora of environments created by a single massive rock.

Kate was waiting for us back at the car park, and as we finished up our base walk we took a few last mental pictures of the wonderful freak of nature, then boarded the bus. It was time to leave this place for Kata Tjuta.

Kata Tjuta is one of the most spiritually significant places in all of Indigenous Australian culture, more significant than Uluru.  It is a men’s sacred site, meaning that it is forbidden for Indigenous Australian women to visit it. It is made up of 36 domes, with the tallest 546 meters (1791 ft.), over 200 meters higher than Uluru. The white man’s name for Kata Tjuta is The Olgas.

The ride from Uluru was about a half-hour, and before long the domes poked up over the scraggly brush. We pulled into a parking lot at the base of two of the domes with a plan of hiking through the valley between the two.

From pictures the domes seem small, but they are anything but. As we entered the valley we were dwarfed by the vertically-sheer sides of the domes. They were dark orange and red, like most things in the red center, with a few holes and imperfections. And as it was functionally a tunnel the winds were intense, and threatened to steal my bush hat more than once.

The trail led us through what seemed like a rocky wasteland into a lush, green oasis with a small stream carving through; a place with damp air and a sense of great fertility.

As we reached the end it seemed as though the Olgas had swallowed us up; we were so deep into the valley that the entrance had disappeared. We hung out a bit at the end of the trail, taking photos and relaxing, then headed back.

After a quick lunch at the campsite we packed up all our things and headed towards the airport. Our time together was coming to a close.

After dropping off a few fellow travelers at a hostel, we pulled up to the Ayers Rock Airport, where I began to disembark. Saying goodbye to the group was incredibly difficult, as I didn’t know if I would see any of them ever again. I shook hands with Roelof and Brett, hugged Conny and Jeanette and said goodbye to Kate. My throat began to feel raw, the beginnings of choking up, but I pressed through. I waved goodbye to the van and headed in to the airport, just making the plane.

Following text by Peter St. George.
Edited by Erin Lee Miller.

I    n      t      r      o      d      u      c      t      i      o      n

“There you go,” the driver said, handing over my luggage. “Follow the pathway around the corner and take a left up the steps. Your doorway is the third on your right. Take the stairs to the top, apartment 61. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nah, I think I got it,” I said. I thanked the jolly, helpful man, shook his hand and said goodbye.

I rounded the pathway and stopped to look around. Reality hit me like a 100-lb wrecking ball to the chest. It was as though I was watching myself on camera-it panned out, picked up speed, hovered over me and my luggage outside the suburban Marsfield apartment complex. The view widened, taking in Sydney and Australia as a whole. I started to feel the 7500 miles of ocean between myself and those I loved-hell, those I knew.

–ζ—δ—ζ–

In February 2009 I left America for Australia, where I spent five months living in Sydney as an exchange student. On the weekends I would make my way downtown to peruse Circular Quay and the Opera House, wander through the Sydney Royal Botanical Gardens or take the country train up to Katoomba and the Blue Mountains. I obsessively made sure my camera was always by my side and my eyes open for interesting angles and possible photographic opportunities.

After becoming comfortable with the city and assimilating with the culture and my fellow students I began to learn of other regions. Before long I was camping at the base of Uluru in the center of Australia, deep in the Outback. I was exploring museums and art exhibits, drinking at pubs and catching up with friends in Melbourne. I spotted koalas and kookaburras in old gum trees and walked through an ancient rainforest along the Great Ocean Road in Victoria. I even woke up in dainty bed and breakfasts and walked along a rocky beach in New Zealand. In essence, I was wandering Down Under.

S    y      d      n      e      y

Utilizing advice from a fellow American student, I flagged down a taxi on busy Epping Street and directed the driver towards Epping Station, the nearest train hub. From there I boarded the train for the forty-five minute trip into town. After a week into my new life I finally decided to make my way downtown to the heart of the city, setting out to explore the Opera House, Circular Quay and the other iconic Sydney landmarks.

Taking the train was a wonderful decision. We snaked through the suburbs, past croquet courses with sixty-something’s dressed in white linen slacks and colorful sweaters draped across their shoulders. Past dainty red clay-tiled houses with cute little cars in cobble-stone driveways, white-barked eucalyptus trees towering over.

The sights then morphed into an industrial area- a drab portrait of graffiti-ed brick and concrete, twisted, rusting old metal and faded factory signs. It was as if I was backstage at a play, seeing the rough, paint-splattered backsides of the beautiful set pieces that are Sydney.

These experiences were all quite exhilarating. Coming from a town of 155,000 people taxis are quite the rare sight, and even our largest cities on the West Coast don’t have legitimate train systems.

I asked a few of the passengers which stop was best for exploring the city, and they all pointed towards Wynyard- one of the main train hubs of the Sydney city center, second to Central Station, beneath the block between George and York Street.

I stepped onto the platform and immediately a damp musty-ness assaulted me: stale air and the aroma of French fries mixed with body odor. Fast-food joints, sushi carts, delis and shoe-repair shops all lined the route up and out of station, a journey that I would become familiar with in the coming months.

As this was the heart of Sydney, the streets were packed with taxis, busses and the occasional ambitious private vehicle. It was one of my first experiences of a mega-city, a global hub, and all the stereotypical characteristics of such a place jumped out at me. Hundreds of people piling up at crosswalks, backed up traffic spotted with white taxis, the constant blare of car horns, the smell of must and wet concrete, and skyscrapers reaching high into the sky, seemingly fusing at their apex and nearly blocking out the sun.

I strolled down George Street towards the Rocks, one of the first areas settled in Australia by the British. Passing underneath an eye-sore of a bridge, I came to a park, a pier, and a huge cruise ship. As I waded through the ridiculously multicultural stream of tourists walking along the pier I saw the familiar sails across the water.

The Sydney Opera House is perfection. Harmonious is a word that more accurately encapsulates my feelings towards the Sydney icon. Juxtaposed against angular buildings of glass, steel and concrete, it is a statement against the limits of architecture and an example of human ingenuity. It is the perfect marriage of grace and function.

I leaned against the steel guard railing and a feeling of holiness overtook me. It was as though I was stuffing a prayer into the Wailing Wall or circling the Kabba at Mecca. The Opera House embodied my goal of reaching Australia; that realization and the holy air on the pier that day have been forever branded into my psyche.

I walked down towards the Harbour Bridge and looked out across the Cove to the Opera House, passing numerous wedding parties along the way. I began to photograph, and got it in my head that for the following five months it would be my goal to shoot non-cliché shots of the Opera House. It’s quite difficult to get an original shot as literally every angle of the Opera House has been shot before. I began to focus on different things in the foreground with the Opera House as an out-of-focus background; it’s so iconic that it doesn’t need even an eighth of the frame. I found a few tame sea gulls and focused on them, placing the Opera House nonchalantly in the background. It was a lot of fun to try to get my shot of the Opera House.

I started towards the Opera House; it was time to inspect it up close. The pier is nearly always bustling with tourists and Sydneysiders attempting to profit from them. I passed multi-talented street performers: the Silver Woman, a Japanese man playing his flute and numerous Indigenous Australians playing their didgeridoos all made up with their traditional paint. I passed the Sydney Harbour Jet boat kiosk, with designer clothing stores and over-priced souvenir and Aboriginal art shops to my right.

The Opera House continued to rise before me and the groups of tourists continued to increase in density. The immense multiculturalism of downtown Sydney is a summit of humanity: Asians, Indians, Europeans, Americans, Middle Easterners, Africans.

I reached the Opera House steps and walked to the base of the monstrous sails. The detail of each individual sail is surprisingly intricate; the design is created by over a million ceramic tiles placed in a zigzag pattern. I made sure to touch the tiles, then circled around the sails shooting hundreds of close-ups and abstract shots.

The sky was cloudy but the day had been clear and dry as a bone. Suddenly, and in less than two seconds, it went from slightly sunny to torrential rain. I hid beneath one of the Opera House’s sails and watched while the thousands of tourists below ran, terrorized, for cover.

Instead of walking back to the station by way of George Street, I decided to circle around through the Sydney Royal Botanical Gardens. The Botanical Gardens are directly adjacent to the Opera House and contain thirty hectares inhabited by huge trees, hibiscus plants, tropical garden areas as well as vast and open lawn areas, ponds and pomegranate trees, among other things. I’ve never been to Central Park in New York City, but I’m guessing it’s quite similar: an oasis in the shadow of a bustling city.

As I walked through the gardens I passed broods of white bodied, yellow-crowned cockatoos and striking two-foot-tall creatures that resembled blue herons-except white bodied with foot-long curved beaks and long, spindly legs.

I began to hear a bit of high-pitched screeching, and as I got deeper into the gardens the sound intensified. I looked up trying to figure out what it was, and finally I saw them: bats! Hundreds of them, clustered in the trees. I began working my camera, shot after shot, and realized that there were pairs of them hugging; they were mating!

Later I discovered the creatures were Grey-Headed Flying Foxes, a fruit bat native to Australia. Flying Foxes have furry red body with a grey head, and in flight are absolutely stunning. Their wings are up to six feet wide and are of the deepest onyx; from the ground it looks as though they are grasping wide strips of thin, black rubber.

They hang upside down grasping branches with their feet, their wings enveloping them like Count Dracula while their eyes peer out over all below. I maxed out my telephoto on the backside of one of the beauties, and to my amazement it began to slowly and smoothly rotate 180-degrees, allowing me to photograph its beautiful face and cute beady eyes. One single bat in front of a mass of others, with a backdrop of thousand-foot skyscrapers; where else in the world can you experience that?!

After exhausting my photographic enthusiasm of the flying beasts I headed on my way, past the Japanese gardens and the glass pyramids of rainforest foliage. Up to the street and over to Wynyard Station I made my way, through the turnstiles and up to the platform, then on to the train.

The day had started out with the goal of exploration, of getting to know my new city. While wandering through downtown Sydney I interacted with so many people, and saw so many things, that by the time I stepped onto the train towards Chatswood everything swirled in my head like a cerebral centrifuge. Finally two things separated from the mass of thoughts: the memories of people and beauty.

The woman at Epping who guided me toward the proper train, the man behind the counter in 7-11 who told me which direction the Opera House was, and the nice English man who snapped my photo-they imprinted themselves on me. The structural gymnastics of the Opera House, the profound magnitude of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the multitudes of humanity along Circular Quay, and the delicacy, vastness and wildness of the Botanical Gardens-they characterized my day.

These two things, beauty and people, continued to form the pillars of my experiences Down Under: the people of the land, and the beauty that sets it apart from all others.

This paper was written for ANS 420-Ethical Issues in Animal Agriculture at Oregon State University, November 29, 2010. I have worked at an animal testing facility for three years now, and this topic piqued my interest.

In the following paper I examined a bit of the history of lab animals and animal testing, then characterized both the pro-animal testing and con-animal testing sides, using various citations to bolster each argument and point. I then concluded with a synthesis, or conclusion, and wrapped the paper up with my own conclusion.

I would love to hear your opinions, comments, etc. Thanks for viewing! (Below is a link to the PowerPoint Presentation accompanying the paper.)

In exploring the issues of animal testing and lab animal use and the related ethical and moral issues it summons, a logical starting point is exploring the purposes and reasons for such practices. For many the crux of moral and ethical issues, questions and concerns in relation to animal testing are the objectives of using animals as models in scientific testing. Animals have been used for everything from the testing of cosmetics (Cohen et al., 2001) to the development of chemotherapy drugs (Andrade et al., 1985).

This paper will focus on the use of animal testing and laboratory animals when used strictly for the development and progression of human medicine. More specifically, the paper focuses on when the purposes of the use of animals as test subjects are to “gain basic biological knowledge; for fundamental medical research; for the discovery and development of drugs, vaccines and medical devices; for the toxicity testing of drugs (and) other chemicals” (Gordon et al., 2005). In this way the seemingly dead issue of animal testing for relatively unimportant means will be circumvented.

The paper will examine perspectives of the stakeholders of the issue. The stakeholders are the scientists who design and perform the experiments and studies, those who oppose the use of animals in scientific experiments, the general public whose tax dollars are used to fund the experiments and who benefit from the results of the experiments, and the animals themselves.

The use of animals for test subjects has its roots deep in history and has been integral to the development of medicine. Names such as Aristotle and Hippocrates studied the structure and function of the human body through animal subjects (Baumans, 2004), and the use of animals in one form or another have been a staple of scientific exploration ever since.

The use of animals in scientific studies continued relatively unquestioned up until the 1980’s, when the general public began to object to the use of animals as scientific models, illuminating a change in social attitudes towards animals (Patronek and Rauch, 2007). Public interest led to the increased coverage of animal testing in the media and the exposure of its uglier side, with the then-recent birth of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) becoming one of the main torchbearers against the use of animal testing.

Even with all this negative press and sentiment, animal testing has continued to this day. 75 to 100 million vertebrates are used per year worldwide in research, with 70% of the animals being used for the testing of vaccines, cancer research, drug research and other biological studies (Van Zutphen, 2001).

The practice of using animals as medical models and test subjects has remained a cornerstone of biomedical studies and medical developments. However, the sheer numbers of animals used, along with broadly-publicized cases of abuse and neglect concerning lab animals has caused much discontent and anger towards scientists utilizing animals in their studies. This negative sentiment threatens to halt the use of animals in scientific testing.

When all the chatter and noise is stripped away and the arguments are boiled down, one question remains- Is the use of animals in medical studies ethical and necessary?

ARGUMENT AGAINST ANIMAL TESTING

While negative sentiment toward animal testing may be a relatively new avenue of emotion and protest, the anti-animal testing camp is a loud, vivacious, and organized bunch.

Overwhelmingly, the marching cry for this group is that there are alternatives to the use of animals in developing medical and surgical skills, and that is morally wrong to kill animals for educational purposes (Patronek and Rauch, 2007). Whether those with this belief feel that medical technology should be tested on humans, not tested at all, or not developed is not apparent.

The anti-animal testing community has proposed a compromise, a method of bettering the situation commonly known as The Three R’s: Replacement of animals with nonliving models, reduction in the use of animals, and refinement of animal use practices (Rollin, 2006).

Members of the scientific community have come out against animal testing for the reason that animals are not accurate models of humans. Humans mature differently than laboratory animals such as mice, rats, puppies and pigs, and it is quite obvious that anatomically these creatures are different. In one example “sensory and reflex functions are relatively developed at birth in humans but underdeveloped in laboratory species and adult-like locomotion only appears around day 15–16 in rats” (Baldrick, 2010).

Any argument against animal testing would be incomplete without vivid, heart-wrenching and stomach-churning descriptions of the procedures. These are the bedrock of any argument against animal testing, and undoubtedly yield the most converts. The most heinous examples of animal testing and animal abuse catches the attention of the media, and these two distinctions, animal testing and animal abuse,  have become inaccurately melded as one.

One of the most publicized incidences involving abused lab animals took place at Columbia University and came to light in 2003 due to the efforts of PETA. The study examined menstrual cycles in baboons, and the animals were subjected to reportedly horrid conditions. Baboons were found with metal cylinders screwed to their heads, blood dripping down the sides. Medical procedures, including the removal of body parts, were done without pain medications, and several baboons were found to have torn off their fingers due to stress and anxiety. These discoveries incurred a U.S. Department of Agriculture probe, as well as investigation by the National Institutes of Health, which provided grants to Columbia University. (Herman, 2003).

Other examples of lab animal use and possible abuse involve the entire spectrum of animals. In the Australian state of New South Wales it was reported that 8,813 animals were killed during one year of trials. The animals included 14 horses, 3,000 fish, 379 sheep, 59 cows, nearly 1,000 chickens, and endangered marsupials including 8 Stripe Faced Dunnarts, a vulnerable species in terms of population size, as well as birds and guinea pigs (Jones, 2009).

Due to these statistics and reported abuses, much of the general public are sympathetic to the cause of those against animal testing. Many medical studies and experiments are carried out at government-funded public universities, meaning they use public money (Rowlinson, 2010). While public perception may not play a large part in the decision-making of scientists and lawmaker’s alike on this issue, this may have to be revisited as the use of tax dollars for programs taxpayers don’t agree with may alter voting.

ARGUMENTS IN FAVOR OF ANIMAL TESTING

Arguing in support for animal testing may be socially unpopular, but it is a lesser-of-two-evils argument. Without the use of animals for testing many of the drugs that have saved countless lives would simply not have been produced, or worse, tested on humans. A 2006 survey of found that 96% of the general practitioners surveyed agreed that animal research has made important contributions to many medical advances (Festing & Wilkinson, 2007). The same survey found that 88% of the general practitioners felt that recently developed medicines should be tested on animals before human consumption or testing.

While the use of animals in medical testing may seem inherently secretive, scientists and lawmakers are working hard to remove this notion. In 2005 the United Kingdom passed the UK Freedom of Information Act. Due to the passage of the Act, the overviews of all new animal research projects in Britain are published and posted on a government website available to the general public. (Festing & Wilkinson, 2007).

A fact that is oft overlooked is the intense regulation that animal testing receives in the United States. It is law in the United States that Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee (IACUC) must be established and complied with for all laboratory animal use for instructional or research purposes (IACUC).

IACUC is the governing body that overlooks the scientific use of animals, declares regulations, accepts or denies scientific animal usage proposals, inspects lab animal facilities and strives to save animals from unnecessary testing and use and requires quick and effective pain relief (Fiester, 2008). It is made up of a committee of no less than five members that, by law and declaration, must include a veterinarian with training in the use of laboratory animals, an active scientist who has professional knowledge of the scientific use of animals, a member whose interests in the issue are of a nonscientific manner (such as clergy, animal welfare activist, or lawyer) and a person who has no connections to the institution in question and is not a family member of a person affiliated with the institution. This committee presides over the activities, regulations and facilities of IACUC (OLAW, 2002).

Also, Public Health Service withholds its use of animals or its support of any lab animal use until a written description of the proposed animal use is submitted to the Office of Laboratory Animal Welfare (OLAW) and returned with a signature of the Institutional Official, along with recommendations and instructions for animal use (OLAW, 2002).

Along with the IACUC and OLAW, the Animal Welfare Act, as amended in 1985, requires specific scientists and attendants to oversee every scientific experiment involving animals. This includes animal caretakers who are responsible for the everyday care of the animals, laboratory animal specialists who are responsible for the animal welfare as well as animal quality control, and animal technicians who are responsible for proper methods and procedures for the experiments.

Regardless of any possible ethical or moral issues, it is fact that the use of lab animals has contributed to important gains in human medicine and biomedical research that is essential to the furthering of our race. The use of lab animals has contributed to advances in, ironically, animal welfare, as well as in the fields of psychotherapy, neuromuscular disorders, the testing and discovery of drugs for anxiety and Parkinson’s disease, as well as fecal and urinary incontinence, and understanding as well as reducing the effects of stress and pain, to name a few (Miller, 1985).

The statistics speak for themselves: animal experimentation contributed to 74% of all important biomedical advances between 1901 and 1975, and 71% of the 82 Nobel Prizes awarded between 1902 and 1982 for Medicine or Physiology required animal experimentation (Nicoll & Russell, 1989). With such value produced by these animals, it is a valid to ask whether these animals are valued and honored more by letting them live their natural lives, or using them for a higher purpose. As the most developed species, is it not acceptable, possibly morally essential, for us to use the resources at our disposal for the betterment of our species? These questions cannot fully and adequately be answered, but their proposition is essential to the discussion.

SYNTHESIS AND COMMON GROUND

While neither side will come to a conclusion that will satisfy both parties, both sides can agree that reducing the number of animals used in animal testing is beneficial. With fewer animals the scientist and laboratory workers would benefit economically, as well as by saving time. For the con-animal testing crowd, this would be trending in the desired direction.

Technological advances have been made to address this issue and develop new procedures and methods that reduce the number of animals used. In one example, animals were tested synthetic and natural chemicals that utilize their actions through binding to nuclear receptors. It was found that “reporter mice, xenopus, or zebrafish, and models obtained by somatic gene transfer in reporter systems, combined with imaging technologies, may contribute to strongly decreasing the overall number of animals required for testing and research” (Caimi, Lorenzo 2008). While these results don’t apply to every application of animal testing, it is proof that with careful research methods may be discovered and developed for reducing the number of animals used, resulting in a reduced loss of life.

The European Union has discussed the reduction of animals used as well. As well as including language calling for a reduction of animals used in science in various protocols and guidelines, researchers have been asked by the Directorate General for Research of the European Commission to put forth an effort to decrease the animals used in research (Caimi, Lorenzo 2008). The researchers were aided by funds dedicated to a network of scientists and industries with the specific goals of finding alternatives to animal experimentation.

For those who are against animal testing, what is your proposed alternative? Do you believe that the medical field has progressed to a point where we can cease to develop medicines, medical devices and new treatments? Or should the medical community employ human testing? Also, have you ever stepped into a hospital, received vaccinations, or hoped that a loved one diagnosed with cancer survived? If so, is this not hypocritical?

And for those who are for animals testing, are us as humans morally superior to all other beings? Should we be able to cause pain, maim and kill other beings for the betterment of our society? Do we have the right to end the life of one animal to save and improve the lives of our own species?

The use of animals as models in scientific research is essential to the continued progression of modern medicine, and in turn the progression of our society and race. The elimination of animal testing would significantly set back the development of essential medical devices, medicines and treatments.

However, we must be smart, diligent, economical and moral in our use of animals. The Three R’s of Replacement, Reduction and Refinement must be put into practice; there is no logical argument opposing this, as the Three R’s reduces animal mortality and suffering, as well as financial cost and time. Governing bodies such as the IACUC must be upheld, respected and enforced. The atrocities and abuses that have occurred in the past must be halted.

The great humanitarian Mahatma Gandhi famously said “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the ways its animals are treated.” By employing the Three R’s and continuing to use animals for scientific purposes we establish our nation as great and our moral progress as sound, while the medical and scientific community continues to uphold its obligation to humanity to further the advancement of their respective fields.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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